


Come Away With Me

by preshypie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bullying, Gay Bucky Barnes, High School Reunion, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Violence, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Unresolved Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2305700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preshypie/pseuds/preshypie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there's a high school reunion, Bucky and Steve are idiots with feelings, high school bullshit is resolved, and there's a happy ending for almost everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queens_righthand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queens_righthand/gifts).



> Hi! This is my first Stucky fanfic and I've never actually posted to ao3 (or really posted anything before) so please leave comments for things that you think I could do better or if you like it or even if you hate it because I could really use some constructive criticism. I'll be posting more if people actually like this chapter. I really hope you like it :)

Bucky wished that he’d learned more advanced hand to hand combat in the army. If he had, he might actually have a hope of successfully killing Natasha. He thinks he could take Clint, but that would only be challenging Nat to come and kick his ass anyways. In all honesty, it’s probably—definitely—his own damn fault. Natasha’s intervention was only the aftermath of his own unfortunate nostalgia after realizing he’d almost been out of high school for ten years. He’d googled his old high school hoping to satisfy his curiosity about the condition of the place that had made his life a living hell for four years. He’d kind of hoped it had burned to the ground so he could go dance on the ashes or something, but his luck had never been _that_ good. After digging around for a few minutes (the football team was still shit, his algebra and chemistry teachers were still there, and Principal Fury looked as terrifying as ever), he’d discovered that there was a reunion being held for his graduating class in a month. Bucky wasn’t surprised no one had been able to get in contact with him to invite him—if they had even tried. After high school when he’d joined the army with Natasha and Clint, they’d all been more than happy to be rid of the place. He hadn’t intended to tell them anything about the reunion because if there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was face high school and the people he’d left behind there, but of fucking course he’d forgotten about the fact that he wasn’t supposed to mention it. He blames Natasha’s Russian vodka that he’s reasonably sure wasn’t obtained through legal means.

“So apparently our 10 year high school reunion is happening in a few weeks.” His hand had frozen halfway to his mouth with his fifth shot of vodka as he realized what he’d done. He’d backtracked, of course, trying to steer conversation in another direction—any other direction—but it was too late. Natasha being Natasha had refused to let it go while Clint looked amused and much too agreeable for Bucky to feel like he had any sort of chance.

“I’m serious, James, we should go.” She’d taken another shot then, and he’d known that he was screwed. Clint grinned as he leaned back into his chair, probably just watching to see how badly Bucky would fuck this up. Asshole.

“Natalia, I’m not going to a reunion with a bunch of people who I hated and who hated me.” Using her real name wasn’t the best idea. Was never the best idea, really. The next day there had been a plane ticket in his mailbox and he was smart enough to know not to wonder how she’d even gotten into it. He’d had to sit through weeks of Natasha and Clint’s plotting and speculating about which of their classmates had traded muscles for cheeseburgers, all while trying desperately not to think of the one person he was more terrified to face than all of the kids who’d tormented him.

“I can understand why Bucky doesn’t want to go to the reunion, and I think we might be being a little insensitive to it,” Clint says during one of their (forced) 3-way phone calls. Bucky almost thinks he’s sincere before he finishes with, “We got sexy Tasha, but Bucky still has to look like _that_. I’d be hesitant to show my face too.”

So here he was. Standing in front of the hotel room’s full length mirror looking at his reflection in the outfit Natasha’d picked out for him. The white v-neck and tight black jeans seemed a little less casual with the tailored grey suit jacket she’d forced him into. He messed with his hair a little, unconsciously trying to make it look perfect before realizing what he was doing and stopping his hands in their tracks. He walks out of his room and knocks on Natasha’s door which is right across from his. She opens the door in a skin tight dark red strapless dress that stops halfway down her thighs.

“I’m almost done. I just need to put on my earrings and shoes.” He lets out a low whistle.

“If I was actually into chicks, I might actually be tempted to try to sleep with you.”

“James, we both know that you couldn’t handle me even if you were my type.” He steps into the room and collapses into her couch. She walks back into the bathroom, but her voice carries back out to him.

“Did Clint say when he and Phil are going to get there?”

“I asked him and his exact response was ‘fashionably late o clock’ so I have no idea.” Bucky smiles even as he makes his voice sound annoyed. As much shit as the two of them got for being gay in high school, he’s glad that Clint gets to walk in and show off his husband to everyone who thought they could turn them straight if they were hateful enough. “So are we ever going to talk about the real reason that you’re going to the reunion tonight?”

He rolls his eyes even as his chest tightens with the confirmation that she knows him way too well. “Are we ever going to talk about why you decided to go dressed like you have a corner to be at in a few minutes?”

“That’s a no then.” She says more to herself than to him.  “And, for your information, I look like a classy hooker. With those jeans on you look like you belong on a corner more than I ever could.”

They find themselves down in the lobby five minutes later, still bickering but without the heaviness that had been around them in the hotel room. He almost thinks that he might not completely dread tonight as long as he stays near Clint and Natasha—dear God, it’s already like they’re back in high school—when a voice freezes him in his tracks.

“Bucky Barnes?” The loud voice repeats from behind them. Bucky rolls his eyes so hard that he thinks they might fall out of his head. He has a strong feeling that it won’t be the last time he does that tonight. He can even feel Natasha stiffen next to him. They slowly turn and look into the smug smile of Brock Rumlow.

* * *

 

_12 Years Earlier_

_“Hey, Barnes!” Bucky very narrowly avoids flinching at the voice and the chorus of laughter that follows it. He tries to keep walking, but Brock’s voice only follows him. “Don’t you know your name, asshole, I’m talking to you.”_

_“I think he only answers to faggot.” Some other asshole pipes up and his jab is received with loud laughter. Bucky clings tighter to his backpack straps and tries to walk faster._

_“I think you might be right about that, man.” Brock’s voice drips with smugness. “Hey, faggot!”_

_“What the fuck is your problem?” A voice chimes into the fray, a voice that he’s come to love. A voice attached to straw blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, and a frame smaller than even Bucky’s._

* * *

 

“The one and only.” The dryness of it seems to surprise Brock who was undoubtedly thinking Bucky was still the timid kid that he used to pummel on all through high school. Natasha smirks.

“Oh well look at you,” Brock recovers and then his smirk turns into a leer as he looks at Natasha. “Even managed to finally get with the program and realize the finer pleasures of life.”

“Oh no I’m still gay. And this is Natasha, you remember her right? She’s still bisexual. Just like you’re obviously still an asshole.” By the time Bucky finishes, Brock is staring at them in incredulity, his mouth hanging open like a dead fish. “You see how that works?”

“There’s no fucking way that _Natasha Romanoff_ grew a rack like that.” The thing about Natasha is that she can be fucking terrifying when she wants to. She just has this way of freezing an entire room with a single look and a raised eyebrow. The air shifts as she levels that looks at Brock.

“Actually, it’s fully possible. What I can’t believe is that you’re still trying to pull that juvenile high school shit ten years later.” Brock seems to forget that he’s supposed to be acting intimidating and instead looks a bit like a scolded puppy as he stands there completely powerless under her gaze. “You are scum. I’ve done way too much with my life for you to degrade me down to nothing but my ‘rack’ like you’ve done to women ever since high school. I’m not that same little Russian girl who was nothing but a victim to you. You cross me tonight and you will regret it.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything more or give him a chance to respond because immediately after that she’s grabbing Bucky’s arm and walking out the door, the clacking of her heels echoing through the lobby. The walk isn’t long, but it’s dead silence. Bucky can almost feel the anger rolling off her in waves. Her shoulders slump a bit as she unlocks the car doors.  As soon as they’ve settled in their seats, they both look at each other and burst out laughing.

“Did you see his face?” Bucky gets out between gusts of laughter.

“He looked like he was going to run away.” Natasha dabs at her eyes with a powder puff thing from her purse as a few tears prickle at the corner of them from laughing so hard. Bucky snorts at the memory before laughing all over again.

“I think that has made this whole thing worth it. Seeing you tell off Brock Rumlow is now the greatest moment of my life.” They’re smiling as Natasha starts up the car and starts the drive to the hotel where they’ll really have to face their past.


	2. Why Does This Shit Always Happen to Bucky?

The inside of the hotel ballroom is slightly visible from the little hallway wrapping around its perimeter. There are really cheesy balloons with ’04 printed on them strategically placed around the ballroom and out in the hallway, and, fortunately, it seems intentional instead of the first in a long line of bad decorating decisions. Bucky is already pretty sure he knows who decorated, and his suspicions are confirmed when he sees Jane Foster sitting at the registration table with Thor Odinson right beside her. Jane had been on the student council in high school and was always in charge of the decorating for any school event after sophomore year. They had been acquaintances more or less, or at least she’d always said hi to him in the halls and at lunch while all of her friends looked scandalized around her. She was always a sweet person and really into her studies, graduating as salutatorian right after St—anyways she had been one of the few decent people at their school. But then there was Thor. Jane and Thor had been a couple through all of high school, but he’d never seemed like the kind of person Jane would go for. He was loud and boisterous to her quiet and composed, but if the baby bump protruding out from her small frame was any indication, they were doing just fine.

“Hi, Jane.” He and Natasha speak at the same time as they approach the table. She turns towards them and her whole face lights up.

“Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff! You guys look amazing! Help me up, Thor.” The hulking blonde man scrambles to his feet to help Jane out of her chair. Jane’s excitement seems to put a smile on his face while she waddles over to Bucky and Natasha. “I saw that you both RSVP’d last minute after I’d spent _years_ trying to figure out your contact information and immediately decided that irony is a cruel bitch.”

“I can relate pretty well.” Bucky says with a smile. The hug she wraps him in is surprisingly fierce despite the fact that her belly has a foot of space between them. She pulls away with a large grin only to wrap Natasha in a hug as equally warm as his.

“I've managed to somehow get all 200 members of our graduating class to be here—mostly through blackmail—except for about 10 of them. I've been in and out of this chair a million times in the past 20 minutes between greeting people and making sure everything is set up properly. I think I give my poor husband a panic attack every time I get up.” She walks back to her chair, and Thor helps her into it as she gestures to the name badges. “Just find your yearbook picture.”

“And here I thought I’d never have to see it again.” Natasha mutters under her breath and Bucky holds back a snort before approaching the table. He gives a tiny nod to Thor, not being able to read the former jock any better now than he had been able to in high school. Thor had never laid a hand on him—and jeez with muscles like that he doesn’t know if he would’ve survived it anyways—and he’d never known why. The guy had been one of Brock’s group without ever blatantly being an asshole and sometimes even going out of his way to be nice to people. Bucky decided long ago to trust Jane’s decision, but he couldn't help but wonder what kind of person Thor really is.

 “Bucky,” Thor begins quietly. His voice is still as deep as ever, but it’s lost much of the accent that he’d had back in high school when he was fresh from Norway. “I only wanted to apologize for my inaction on your behalf during high school. I never agreed with the actions of my teammates during their various torments, but, being desperate for acceptance, I never spoke up. I have let go of many things from high school, but this is the one that I have never quite been able to forgive myself for. That was wrong of me and I beg your forgiveness.”

Bucky was a little stunned. Most people would've just smiled at him and made a pathetic attempt at conversation so that they could let him know that they were ok with his “lifestyle choices” without admitting to being an asshole to him. He’d never expected an apology tonight, but it seems that Thor is a better man than he'd expected. “I really appreciate it, man. We’re good.”

The smile Thor gives him is almost bright enough to make a man blind. “Thank you, my friend. Find your badge so that you may go enjoy the activities with the rest of our classmates.”

He grabs his badge and turns to Natasha who has a smile on her face as she looks at him. “Let’s go enjoy the activities, James.”

* * *

 

_13 Years Earlier_

_Bucky was seriously regretting his decision to ever leave middle school as he looked up at the bigger kids laughing and talking around him as they all made their way to the big building with “Marvel Senior High School” in big letters above the doors. The freshman orientation was on the first day during the first few periods to get the new high schoolers properly accustomed to the new environment, but he felt like that was too far away as he navigated the unfamiliar hallways of his new school. He spots Natasha clutching her newest book to her chest like a shield. He carefully makes his way over to her, narrowly avoiding getting trampled by the other kids._

_“I never thought I’d say that I missed middle school.” He says as a greeting. She smiles as she recognizes the voice and her braces glint in the dull lighting of the hallway._

_“It’ll be better here, though.” Her thick Russian accent seems to have faded some over the summer, and, though he’d never say it to her, he’s glad she hasn’t been successful in getting rid of it. There’s something reassuringly beautiful about it that he wishes that she could see for herself. She adjusts her book in her grasp, and starts keeping pace with Bucky. “There will be more people to make friends with. There’s no way that we’ll be the only weird kids anymore.”_

_“That’s if we don’t get trampled first.” Bucky says as he pushes them out of the way of some seniors shoving their way through the crowd. “Where the hell is the auditorium?”_

_“As usual you refuse to have any sort of prior knowledge before entering a situation.” Natasha rolls her eyes as she begins to drag them in what he assumes to be the correct direction._

_“That’s what I have you for.” He knows that they’re approaching the auditorium as he starts to see people he sort of recognizes from last year going in the same direction. He almost doesn’t see Clint as he waves at them from his seat in the auditorium._

_“Come in children! The activities will be starting soon!” The over-excited looking Assistant Principal says from her place at the podium._

_Natasha turns her brace covered grin over to him, and, in her most sarcastic voice says, “Let’s go enjoy the activities, James.”_

* * *

 The inside of the ballroom is larger than he would've expected, but Bucky supposes it needs to be to hold the collective egos of all the people trying to prove that they made something of themselves after high school. The looks start as soon as they walk through the door. The raised eyebrows and open mouthed stares should make him feel vindicated, but, honestly, he just feels angry. They shouldn't get to appreciate him now that he's grown out of his awkward stage, but he knows there's nothing he can do about it. He forces himself not to scan the crowd looking for the one person he refuses to admit he wants to see, and instead drags Natasha over to the snack bar.

“You see Steve yet?” Natasha says as she pops an hors d'oeuvre into her mouth.

“You see Pepper yet?” He says as he takes a sip of the punch.

She glares. He glares back. No progress is made either way.

“Bucky—”

“No, Natasha, I came here because you forced me to. Steve Rogers is in the past where he’s going to stay. You're not going to force me to confront my feelings about this after all these years.”

* * *

 

_12 Years Ago_

_Steven Grant Rogers was going to be the death of him. He can’t remember when he stopped caring._

_“Jesus Christ,” Bucky breathes as he tries to stop the bleeding from three different cuts on Steve’s face._

_“You don’t have to be formal, Bucky, you can just call me Steve.” Despite everything he’s feeling, he laughs at the cheap joke. It comes out a bit more hysterical than he means for it to. “You alright, Bucky?”_

_“Am I—are you serious? Steve, you’re bleeding out—”_

_“You’re so melodramatic.”_

_“—and you’re asking_ me _if_ I’m _alright? I think you’ve been hit on the head one too many times, punk.”_

_“I’m pretty sure it’s just that your stupid is catching, jerk.” They smile at each other until Bucky’s eyes are drawn back to the bleeding cuts on Steve’s face. His only consolation is that Steve looks a bit remorseful under his gaze._

_“You can’t protect me from what they say behind my back, Stevie.” Bucky says quietly as he dabs the cuts with alcohol. Steve grimaces but doesn’t react to the sting otherwise._

_“If I don’t, then they’ll think it’s okay.” Steve tries to look into his eyes, but he can’t force himself to meet the other boy’s gaze. “It’s not okay what they say about you, Bucky.”_

_“There’s nothing either of us can do about it except put our heads down until graduation when we can get the fuck out of here.”_

_“I can’t spend my life running like that, and you deserve better than to live like that.” Steve grabs his chin and gently tilts his face so that he meets Steve’s crystal blue eyes with his own. “You deserve so much more than you get here, you have to see that, and I’m going to keep fighting for you until you do.”_

_No matter when he stopped caring about Steve being the death of him, he knew one thing for sure: that was, without a doubt, the moment he knew he’d fallen in love with Steve Rogers._

* * *

 Natasha looks disappointed in him and he wishes he could make her stop because he’s disappointed enough in himself for the both of them. “Okay, Bucky.” She shoves a cupcake into his hand. “Frowning makes you look ugly. Eat.”

He huffs a laugh as he bites into the cupcake. They both seem to come to a silent conclusion to stand in the corner as more and more people start to flood into the ballroom. They see Clint almost at the same time. It’s refreshing to see a friendly face after looking around and seeing nothing but the people who’d laughed at him and teased him relentlessly when he was scrawny and covered in acne. Clint is dressed in a purple short sleeved button up that is about two sizes too small, consequently accentuating his muscles and shoulders, while wearing his trademark shit eating grin that had gotten them out of as many fights as it had gotten them into, both in and out of high school. Phil is right next to him, holding his husband’s hand and looking amused at Clint’s peacocking. Clint walks completely at ease, but the way he’s death gripping Phil’s hand shows that he’s more nervous than he’d ever let on.

“This might be the worst idea I’ve ever had.” Clint says as he comes to a stop in front of them.

“I got to see Tasha tell off Brock Rumlow so I’ve been feeling pretty great.” Clint raises his eyebrows at them.

“You got your sweet revenge without me?” He puts his free hand to his chest. “I’m hurt, Tasha.”

“If you hadn’t held us up in the hotel room, then you wouldn’t have missed it.” Phil says as he accepts a hug from Natasha. Clint turns his hurt expression on his husband, but it quickly morphs into a leer.

“If I remember correctly, you weren’t complaining about the holdup.”

“Aaaaand that is more than I ever wanted to know about you guys’ sex life. I’m going to go try and fry my brain with bleach.” Bucky walks back over to the snack table as Clint’s snickers are interrupted by what he assumes to be Natasha’s fist.

“James Barnes?” He resists groaning as he turns towards a group of women that he vaguely recognizes, even with the thick layer of makeup that each of them are wearing. He looks at their badges and confirms them as members of the cheerleading squad from high school. They, like most people back then, never really went out of their way to antagonize Bucky, but they sure as hell enjoyed watching the football players do it. “Oh my God, it is him.”

Bucky watches in a kind of detached horror as they all congregate around him, fake smiles paired with even faker tans. He almost smiles with a twisted kind of glee as he realizes that Raven Darkholme isn’t nearly the bombshell that she had been in high school. She doesn’t seem to realize that, though, as she bats her eyelashes at him. “I never imagined you would’ve gotten so…easy on the eyes.”

“Um…” Bucky looks back to where he left Natasha, Clint, and Phil only to see them laughing at him and the deer-in-headlights look he’s sure is on his face. He gives up any hope of them coming to his rescue and looks for his own out. “Ok. Bye.”

Yuriko Oyama steps up next and runs a long fingernail down his arm. The touch makes him feel dirty. “We haven’t seen you in so long. Don’t you want to catch up?”

“What’s with you people and assuming that the military made me straight?” Bucky takes a big step back away from them and this time they don’t follow. “I’m still gay. You guys aren’t any more desirable to me now than you were back then.” He takes another step back as their expressions switch from flirtatious to murderous. “I’m gonna go now.”

Bucky turns around and runs straight into a hulking blonde man that isn’t Thor. He finds this problematic. He mumbles “Sorry, guy,” and tries to retreat before whoever it is suddenly remembers who he is too.

He’s about to turn back around and walk over to Natasha to give her a piece of his mind when the blonde man’s voice pulls him up short. “Bucky?”

* * *

 

_13 Years Ago_

_Steve Rogers was the newest student of their class and he was already a target for Brock and his minions. He’d stood up for little Sharon Carter the other day when they’d cornered her, pushing her around until she was at the point of tears. Steve had swooped in like a fury of scrawny limbs and righteous indignation, and promptly got his ass handed to him on a silver platter even though Sharon was able to get away. Bucky was sure the kid was going to get himself killed, but he didn’t seem like the type to take anyone’s shit, regardless of the fact that he’d had 2 asthma attacks in the past week._

_Bucky’d meant to stay out of Brock’s orbit since the kid was practically an apprentice to Alexander Pierce—also known as the scariest kid to ever walk the halls of Marvel High even though he was only a sophomore—and Bucky was enough of a target when he kept his head down. Bucky had really, really meant to stay away from Brock, but he’d always known that wasn’t going to happen. Steve was defending someone else today like he was planning on making a habit of it. Hell, he probably was. Kurt Wagner had tripped over his shoelaces in the cafeteria and Pierce refused to let him back up. After the third kick, Steve had showed up, standing in front of Kurt like he was about 10 times more intimidating instead of a 4’ 11”_ _asthmatic. Pierce had gotten a good laugh before punching Steve hard in the nose. The kid fell but was up again in a flash. Pierce dropped him again. Bucky tried to stand in the lunch line with Clint and Natasha, ignoring the chants and jeers all around them, but he knew he couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. Bucky had walked over and shoved Pierce out of the way to stand in front of Steve and Kurt._

_He knew it was stupid but the words came out anyways, “Leave them alone, dick.”_

_Later when he and Steve were sitting in the nurse’s office with bloody noses and bruised faces and after they’d finally convinced Kurt that he didn’t owe them anything, they finally took a good look at each other. Steve was the first to break the silence. “So…you come here often?”_

_Bucky snorts and then immediately regrets it when a sharp flare of pain goes up his nose. “Not that often, but I feel like if I’m gonna be hanging around you it’ll be a hell of a lot more often than I should.”_

_“I already know the nurses’ names. I don’t even remember half my teachers’ names.” Steve smiles at him all timid and cautious but still warm. “Your name is James, though, right?”_

_“Oh God don’t call me James. Only the teachers do that.” He straightens up and gives Steve his cockiest smile. “I got a broken nose and a black eye because of you. You can call me Bucky.”_

_“Bucky?” Steve tilts his head a little as he processes the nickname. “I like it.”_

* * *

 Bucky looks up, really looks, and though he may be taller and more muscular—Jesus Christ he’s built like a brick shit house –it’s still, somehow, the Steve Rogers he once knew. “Oh. Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how frequently I'm going to update this so don't expect most updates to be within a week of each other. Leave me any suggestions that you might have :)


	3. Heeeeeeeeere's Stevie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little dark because it deals with being outed in a homophobic high school and the consequences of something like that.

Bucky was sure that he was hallucinating. The collective overabundance of the school’s former cheerleaders’ perfume could’ve gotten him high right? Maybe Rumlow had snuck up behind him and knocked him out and now he was dreaming. That’s the only way he can fully rationalize what he’s seeing. The man in front of him—the one who couldn’t possibly be Steve Rogers but is so clearly _Steve_ that he can feel his heart constricting in his chest—is broad shouldered, impossibly tall, and glowing with health in a way that his Steve never could. He knows that he’s probably doing his best impression of a dead fish with the way his mouth is hanging open, but he can’t bring himself to care as he looks the man— _Steve—_ over again and again. He tears his eyes away from the tight dress shirt that has left nothing to the imagination to look up—what the hell, Steve was a shrimp in high school—into Steve’s eyes. Steve has a look on his face like he’s torn between amusement and guilt, and guilt seems to be winning over. It’s an interesting look.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve’s voice sounds exactly the same in a way that tears him apart. After 10 years he’d hoped he would have been able to escape Steve Rogers’ magnetic pull, but the man barely said three words to him in the space of a few seconds and he knows he’s probably never left it. He’s not sure he could get his voice to work even if he tried.

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” Natasha’s voice saves him from speaking. Steve’s eyes turn towards her—Bucky feels like the other man does so reluctantly, but that’s probably just wishful thinking—before his eyebrows shoot up as he takes her in. Bucky is reminded with painful clarity why he gave up on Steve Rogers the first time.

“It’s good to see you again, Tasha.” Natasha goes in for a hug and Steve accidentally catches his eyes while he hugs her. As horribly cliché as it sounds, Bucky feels his heart do cartwheels in his chest as their eyes meet. He lets out a shuddering breath just in time to get thumped on the back by Clint.

“Holy shit is that Steve?” Clint embraces Steve as Natasha lets go. Steve grins widely at Clint when they step back to look at each other. “What the actual fuck did you do to yourself and where can I get my hands on it?”

Steve looks down sheepishly in a move so familiar it almost makes Bucky smile. Almost. He’s pretty sure his face is going to be stuck in perpetual shock for a few more hours at least. “You didn’t do too shabby yourself.”

“I certainly think so.” Phil speaks up from beside Bucky in that quietly amused way of his. Clint grabs Phil’s hand and intertwines their fingers together.

“Phil, this is Steve Rogers. He was one of the non assholes in high school after Tasha and Bucky.” Steve’s eyes flicker over to him for a second before looking back at Phil. “Steve, this is Phil Coulson, my husband.”

Steve smiles and reaches his hand out to shake Phil’s. Bucky doesn’t hear any of the pleasantries because he’s too busy walking towards the doors. He needs some fresh air. Bucky just barely gets to the hallway when Natasha catches up to him.

“Are you seriously doing this?” The accusation in her tone makes him wince.

“I’m not leaving I just needed to get some air.” Bucky wipes a hand over his face as he begins to pace. “Jesus, Tasha, he doesn’t look remotely the same and I still can’t—”

“James.” He turns to look at her. She has an eyebrow raised with her hands on her hips and her gaze burns into his. “Did it ever occur to you that Steve missed you as much as you’ve obviously missed him? You’re the one who decided having him in your life was just going to cause you pain and I get that, I do, but he never made that decision.”

Natasha puts a hand on his arm to stop his pacing. “You were his best friend, James, and maybe he didn’t love you the way you wanted him to but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love you.”

Bucky sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He puts his hand on top of Natasha’s and squeezes. “I know you’re right. That doesn’t make it any easier.”

“If life was easy, Brock Rumlow wouldn’t be failing so hard at it.” The deadpan way she says it startles a laugh out of him. “Go out there and grow the fuck up, Barnes.”

* * *

 

_13 Years Ago_

_“I just need to know.” Clint says quietly as he avoids Bucky’s eyes. “No one has to find out. It doesn’t have to mean anythi—”_

_Bucky cuts him off by pressing his lips to the other boy’s clumsily. Clint moves his mouth so that their mouths aren’t in an uncomfortable tangle. It’s cramped and hot in the supply closet, Clint’s hands are awkwardly hovering around his waist while Bucky’s hands are squished between them, and he thinks there might be a little too much teeth involved._

_It’s the best kiss he’s ever had._

_They pull back from each other, dazedly._

_“Hey, Bucky?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“I definitely think I’m gay.”_

_“Yeah, me too.”_

_They laugh lightly, the shock of the revelation subduing them a bit. They gravitate back towards each other slowly, but before their mouths meet again, the closet door is yanked open._

_“What the fuck?!” The guy yells as the two freshmen spring apart. The only thing Bucky can see is the guy’s football jersey, and he knows that he’s screwed. “Guys! Come quick, we caught ourselves a couple queers!”_

_The next hour is a blur, but once the crowd—it felt like it was every single guy in the school—dissipates, he can only feel pain and humiliation. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It_ shouldn’t _have happened like this. It was supposed to be special. He was supposed to be able to figure himself out before everyone else got a chance to._

_Natasha finds them sometime later, their foster parents in tow, and an ambulance for each of them not far behind._

_They call it “rough housing gone too far” as if they were all friends, as if the two of them didn’t end up in the hospital. Since the “rough housing” had strayed a little too close to assault for all those boys to be let completely off the hook, Bucky and Clint were assured that they would be getting punished for their actions. He hears from Natasha that the punishment consisted of a lunch detention that they all got out of early. The true meaning of Justice in America._

_The hospital stay doesn’t last long enough in Bucky’s opinion because he’s back outside the school before he knows it. He’s in no way ready to face the torment that he knows lies in wait for him behind those doors. He’s almost jealous of Clint who gets to stay in the hospital for a bit longer due to his cracked ribs and busted eardrums. The sensation of a hand slipping through his draws him out of his thoughts._

_“I can’t do this, Tasha.” He hates the way his voice trembles and his eyes sting with the effort of holding back sobs._

_“You don’t have to do it alone.” She squeezes his hand. “You don’t go in there, and they’ll think they’ve won. People like that don’t deserve to win, to take pride in breaking the spirit of people worth ten times more than them. You walk in, and, even if you don’t say or do anything, you’ve still won because you show them that they haven’t broken you.”_

_Her mouth turns up into a smile that both of them know is fake, but it seems to loosen his chest regardless. “Time to go in and man the fuck up, kid.”_

* * *

 “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He reluctantly walks towards the door before Natasha just gives up and drags him back into the ballroom. It’s ridiculous to feel like he’s fifteen again, going to face down his tormentors, but, even so, he’s always known there’s nothing he can’t do when he has Clint and Natasha by his side. If only his erratically beating heart could get the message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it took me like forever to update this fic and I'm sincerely sorry for that. I am definitely not abandoning this fic but it will probably be slow going. The bright side is that there shouldn't be much more fic for me to write after this chapter: yay!
> 
> if you want to pester me about updating my fic (or just say hi) my tumblr is preshypie.tumblr.com


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